I tried to Google "pictures of women with tools," but most of what I got was pictures of dildos. I'm not even kidding. Try it.

In light of the popularity of Women Laughing Alone with Salad, I thought I'd bust up some other stock photography I find hardly representative of actual life. I hate how in advertising, everyone is perfectly scrubbed and every event - even washing your fucking laundry - is TOTALLY AWESOME AND WORTHY OF SMILES. I get the point, every brand wants to imply that their products make you happy, either directly or indirectly, but let's be honest here: people in advertisements are assholes, and so are you if buy into what they're selling.

(No, I didn't buy these images. What do you think I am, a sucker? iStockPhotos can kiss my ass.)

I ALWAYS see pictures like this. They are meant to convey that drinking wine is a lady-friend-fun thing to do. They neglect the reality of wine drinking: you had a shitty day at work and you're terrified of getting fired, so the only way you can relax is by plowing through a bottle of Pinot Grigio and wishing that you won the lottery, or died, or won the lottery and died the next day because it isn't it ironic, don't you think? Please kill me now.

It really irritates me that every time you see an image of a casino, everyone is beautiful and well dressed. Every casino I've ever been to is chock full of fat middle-aged broads chain-smoking and wearing shirts with puff-paint cats on them. Ever been to Vegas? It's not full of attractive yuppies in silk. It's full of assholes in Ohio State sweatshirts who are going to see Celine Dion and play nickel slots.

 

 

YAY WE ARE WATCHING TV TOGETHER DURING THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY AND EATING POPCORN AND HAVING SO MUCH FUN.

No. Just... no. I watch Hoarders by myself at 3 AM while wearing granny panties and no shirt. Watching television is not some bullshit family bonding experience. I watch television because I don't have a life or a thought in my brain.

 

Can we just kill this stupid trope that for women, eating a piece of chocolate is like coming? The title of this picture is "Chocolate craving." I don't crave chocolate like I crave getting my rocks off, okay? I eat about twenty Reese's peanut butter cups when I'm on my period, but it doesn't make up for the fact that I'm bleeding. If I had to pick orgasms or chocolate, I'm going to pick orgasms. IT'S JUST CHOCOLATE.

In ads, old women fucking LOVE the pool. They love it. It's like as soon as you retire, they give you the keys to the local YMCA and you spend the rest of your days doing water aerobics with all your multi-racial best friends. The truth? I don't know a single old person who goes in a pool. I'm pretty sure it's because they're not morons and know that lots of water plus someone who can't move very well equals DROWNING.

Nobody fucking meditates. Nobody has a sense of "inner calm." That's why people invented whiskey and shoegaze music.

Woohoo! Dance party! Except there are only four people there! Standing on a fake bear rug! And none of them are holding alcoholic beverages! And for whatever reason, the host is a terrible decorator! This party fucking sucks.

it's the most whoring-ish time of the year.

I don't have a good track record with holidays. Usually on New Year's Eve, I'm trying so hard to have a good time that something inevitably goes horrifically wrong - one year I was robbed, one year I was stuck in my parent's basement during a blizzard when I was supposed to be on a romantic getaway in the White Mountains, and one year I got stuck playing Trivial Pursuit and drinking two glasses of gross Romanian champagne. I had quite a memorable Thanksgiving when I was sixteen and after an hour of driving around looking for an open restaurant, I had to eat at a dive while my father drunkenly called me a whore in earshot of the entire restaurant. When I was a kid, I would throw up every Christmas Day because I was so excited about getting presents.

Nonetheless, I still love all of those holidays. I get excited about them. One holiday, however, makes my guts churn and my cynicism boil over into open and gross rancor.

Dude, I know exactly how you feel.

Halloween blows. Asshole kids smash your pumpkins and throw eggs and shaving cream at your car. There's a steady stream of brats knocking on your door and asking you for shit. You have to spend ridiculous amounts of money on poorly made pieces of polyester that usually rip before you even make it to whatever stupid Halloween party you're trying to go to. It's going to take you three hours just to get all your makeup off, and no matter what, whatever you chose to wear is weather-inappropriate and has you either sweating or freezing all night.

But the worst part of all? The slutty costume enigma.

If you have a vagina, even if you wear jeans and t-shirts every day, you are expected to wear the shortest, tightest piece of clothing you can find that reflects some theme. The point, I guess is that traditional costumes tend to make women look "unattractive." At least in the beginning, sexified Snow White and the like sort of made sense. The costumes found a way to actually reflect the concept. But the shit now is ridiculous.

Apparently, even the private parts of child-aged cartoon characters can't be left to the imagination.

This is allegedly a beer pong costume. The text on the skirt says "Don't forget to wash your balls!" Let's just make an outfit that says "I'LL SUCK YOUR DICK" and get it over with. Better yet, just get it tattooed on your forehead. America - where subtlety went to die.

"This is a costume, right? I'm wearing one of those cute little top hats!" If you need context to even explain to people that are going to buy it what is actually is, it's fucking terrible.

Sexy lumberjack! REALLY. REALLY. What's next? "Sexy lumper!" Or maybe "Sexy person who delivers my heating oil!"

God forbid a corporation in America NOT take something unique and badass like roller derby and make it into something shallow, sanitary and meaningless. SHE'S NOT EVEN WEARING ROLLERSKATES. I weep.

Here's a tip: Before you design a costume, why don't you do a quick Google search to ensure it doesn't reflect a well-known, relatively fucked up sexual fetish. I feel so sorry for any woman who ignorantly wears this out, because there is definitely going to be some creepy ass guy ejaculating onto her.

Do you know how many people in the world would look good in this costume? Probably about eleven. Do you know how many women are going to wear this and look like a bloated sausage? A number possibly in the thousands. And how is "being a naked woman with sushi strategically placed over my breasts and vulva" a fucking costume? I give up.

I spend pretty much every day trying to look attractive. I just want one day out of the year where I can go without wearing a bra. Which is why my Joan Jett costume this year will be to the top.

eight songs that make me want to pour hot wax in my ears.

I like to think I have refined taste when it comes to music. Among my friends, I'm usually the one sharing band recommendations, and I've had more than a few people I used to know contact me later and tell me they're still listening to a band I introduced them to. I would make the best rock critic probably ever.

As a whole, I think the music industry sucks ass and the crap they play on the radio could not be worse. But here are eight songs that I really, really abhor.

Katy Perry - California Gurls

 How subtle. I bet your parents are so proud.

It's not that I think Katy Perry is stupid. It's that I think she's a fucking moron. With a fucking terrible voice. This is one of those songs that sticks to your brain matter like that obnoxious residue from when you rip a sticker off too quickly. The song's premise isn't terrible, I guess, except she pretty much desecrated one of the greatest songs ever to be recorded. It features probably the worst Snoop Dogg appearance ever. And lyrics stating "we freak in my Jeep"? 1997 called, they want their lame-ass lingo back.


Pussycat Dolls - Don't Cha

There is nothing in the world more heinous than pop groups wearing matching outfits.

Without even getting into how "Pussycat Dolls" is the easily the dumbest name ever, and the fact "Cha" is not even a fucking word, and that I don't even get why there are five broads in this ensemble when only one of them actually sings, this is by far the most phony attempt at female self-empowerment that I've ever heard. Terrible shtick, terrible song. In short, I don't.


Black Eyed Peas - I Gotta Feeling

The band is comprised of will.i.am.a.narcissistic.prick, Tabooring, apl.de.ap.iece.of.shit, and the Ferg-monster.

I gotta feelin' that every time I hear the Black Eyed Peas, my entire day is fucking ruined. I can't believe our country is so braindead that they could be sold on a song proclaiming that "tonight's gonna be a good night." Real deep. If you listened really carefully during the moment this song was announced as number one on the Billboard charts, you could hear the sound of classical musicians everywhere dying on the inside. When life imitates art and Idiocracy reflects the state of American affairs, I bet you a million dollars everyone will be listening to the Black Eyed Peas.

I could pretty much make this whole list out of Black Eyed Peas songs, but I won't bore you, and I shudder every time I have to actually type the name of this insufferable, talentless, hideous gang of asshats.  They shall henceforth be known as The Douchebags Who Shall Not Be Named.


Avril Lavigne - Girlfriend

Avril, I think you found your true calling.

Hey! Hey! You! You! Fuck off and die, please.


Ke$ha - Tik Tok

You will never fucking be Cher. Don't even try.

I actually kind of liked this song the first two times I heard it. I thought it was sorta campy. And then I heard it another forty thousand times, and I realized that being continually subjected to that song is the equivalent of being locked in a hot, windowless room with vomit and crap all over the walls. If there truly is a God, he invented that song just to show you that in hell, everyone has a nasal voice, there's way too much glitter, every guy is potentially raping you, they use Jack Daniels instead of toothpaste, and there's a loud-ass clock ticking the seconds away. That's enough to make me into a believer.


Nickelback - How You Remind Me

Nickelback is the worst band in popular music today. I'm not even kidding. The intense popularity of Nickelback epitomizes everything I hate about this country. I would say that I want them to meet their end in a bloody plane crash, but that would seal their martyr status and probably make them even more popular than they already are, so I will request that they split up and order all radio stations and Best Buys to destroy all traces that their music ever existed.


Fall Out Boy - Sugar, We're Goin' Down

There is no way any of these guys had sex in high school.

I can't, for the life of me, understand why teenaged chicks eat stuff like this up. The style of singing is so ridiculously annoying, not to mention completely unintelligible. This is what it sounds like to me:

We goin' dow dow dobeedoobeedoobaaaa
And sugar we gotta down singa
I'll be a numb-er one with a boola
A loaded God complex, caca and pulla


Owl City - Fireflies

I want to punch him in his stupid giant head.

Just admit you completely and totally ripped off The Postal Service, you piece of shit.

2010's douchebag of the universe!

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about egotism and vanity. I've realized lately that I don't personally find selfishness that offensive - but only if it's self-aware selfishness. Only if it's selfishness that someone owns and is very clear about. You want to abandon your roommates in the middle of the night without having paid rent for three months? Sleep with someone for a promotion? Do it. Just admit that you're a self-centered asshole. Deep down, we're all kind of terrible, but we're not self-disparaging enough to outwardly proclaim it. Thus, I have a lot of respect for people who know they're shitheads and have no problem letting the world know.

As such, I believe narcissism under the guise of charity is a capital sin. Let me introduce you to 2010's Douchebag of the Universe.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Or twenty-five, which is about the number of words in his vocabulary.

This guy, whom I'll call the Simian, is a self-proclaimed "social media superstar," a "model" and a "promoter." Technically, he might be all of these things. He has nearly 5000 Facebook friends, a collection of photographs in various states of undress, and he hosts nights at Boston clubs. But more than anything, he is a vain, superficial, greasy, deluded moron who sells makeup on the internet and thinks he has the right to tell other people that they're ugly.

On his website, he touts the e-book of his "rise to glory" from suburban upper-middle-class friendless loser to club rat that hangs out with walking piles of hair extensions. Since I don't want to subject you to the inanity (I read it and nearly lost my lunch as well as my will to live), I'll sum it up for you: He was fat. He didn't kiss anyone until he was 17. He worked at a bank. He went on MySpace.

"This is where I made a decision. I decided I wanted it all. I wanted the girls in the pictures, I wanted the abs, I wanted the money, the cars, the flashing lights, and I wanted to be right in the middle of all of it. This is where my world got flipped upside down."

What an existential crisis! Honda Civics and glitter graphics are so inspiring! So how was he going to achieve his dream of material satisfaction?

"I figured the most logical way to get something that I really wanted was to observe and mimic the people who already had it."

Brilliant plan of attack, troglodyte. Brilliant. I mean it. He was at the very least smart enough to realize that he will never have the insight or prowess to fashion himself as a unique person. Instead, he nicknamed himself "Hollywood," (though I doubt he'd ever been there by that time), bought a lot of vests, and has landed somewhere between being a juicehead and a motivational speaker. He hawks his brand with the panache of a satisfied client on a Hair Club for Men commercial; hurling epigrams about how feeling good is looking good and taking every available opportunity to compare women to cars.

He uses his internet presence to tell everyone what he's about, which is essentially nothing. Positivity! Hot chicks and money! You're not rich because you're not working hard enough!

Still, women kiss his ass. For every banal, shallow observation about how everything he does is right and everything everyone else does is wrong, there are eight bimbos cooing about funny and wise he is. It goes without saying that these are the kind of women who are the human personifications of herpes, and are guaranteed to have fake breasts, nails, hair, tans, or all of the above. They tend to have even less substance than the men who are so desperate to fuck them.

Have you ever noticed that the people who are always about having a "positive attitude" and "achieving their dreams" are the people who have absolutely nothing under the surface? They're also the same people who don't watch the news, don't care about political issues, and claim to like all kinds of music. I guess it's really easy to be positive all the time when you spend your time not reading or attempting to contribute anything to society.

I have the consolation of knowing that in 20 years, this dipshit will be wearing Sears suits and selling used cars, but it still unnerves me that there are legions of dumb broads in America, swarming around men like him and their giant heads. It irritates the absolute shit out of me that anybody in the world thinks he's an authority on ANYTHING. But what irks me most of all is that he has the nerve to claim that he's "helping people". Here's a recent Facebook comment, full of self-deprecation and modesty:

"Do you know about the countless hours I've spent helping hopeless teenagers actually have a social life, get attention from women, change their image, have FRIENDS? Without asking for ANYTHING in return?"

Oh yes, you are an endless foundation of philanthropy! The world thanks you for your generous donation of hypocritical comments on other people's lives! You're the front-runner to win the Nobel Prize; they just made a new category for being a fucking self-absorbed worthless piece of shit! Everybody knows you're only helping your dick and your bottom line; just get over yourself.

the post in which I make fun of abstinence-only sex education and die a little on the inside.

I was your run-of-the-mill suburban WASP type. I grew up in a house where sex was NOT discussed, save for a conversation with my mother at age 19 when she confessed that she found oral sex disgusting. Needless to say, everything I learned before having sex, I learned from inept, conservative, middle-aged sex education teachers. 

I didn't go to school during the era of abstinence-only education, though, and I thank the non-existent higher power for that. I was given enough of an education to know that condoms are effective, all chlamydia requires is some penicillin and the nearest abortion clinic was 35 miles away. I didn't learn about female orgasms (naturally, the discourse of desire fails women), but that what was my trusty $12 novelty vibrator from Spencer's that my boyfriend stole for me was for.

So I'm frustrated to see the outright lies that these government-funded "educational" groups lay thick on kids nowadays. A sampling:

- You can get HIV from sweat and tears

- 40-day old fetuses are "thinking people"

- Condoms are effective less than 70% of the time

- Abortion causes breast cancer and sterility  

Not to mention the fact that they either stigmatize queer youth or leave the LGBT experience out of teachings entirely, and perpetuate ridiculous gender stereotypes that are designed to boost the patriarchy and keep women devalued.

Apparently, as part of the curriculum in many states, they make kids in junior high draw (I use the term liberally) posters depicting the ills of sex and the joys of retaining your hymen. Note, of course, the onus is on girls to stop boys before they go too far - and if they get knocked up, it's their fault. I'm not criticizing the kids that make these posters - how are they to know better? I'm just furious that moralistic assholes who want to spread their bullshit gospel put young people's lives in jeopardy because they refuse to acknowledge reality and give teens the tools to protect themselves.

Let's read the inanity and weep, shall we?

 

I think this is probably the best advertisement for the rhythm method that I've ever heard.

I really like how this one throws in a "but," like, getting STDs is wicked awesome, but, then you might have to blow all your after-school job money on some offspring. Bummer, dude.

WHO GETS PERMS ANYMORE?! I'd much prefer a sticky white substance over an hour of burnt hair smell and months of poodle hair.

This bitch makes it sound like "intimate affection" is a bad thing. I bet her mother makes her douche with Lysol.

Reach for the stars! 

Intercourse: a one way ticket to quadruple-bypassville.

Uh, kiddo? Nobody told you about how propagating the species actually works, did they? Awkward.

Sex kills! So wait until you're married! So you don't die alone! I'm going to go kill myself now.

I'm not a candy. I also do my Kegel's. Nobody knows the difference.

I'm pretty quick to refute this one. Talking is dangerous. Talking is where your heart gets broken, not when someone's between your legs. It's pretty hard to tell someone their grandmother died mid-coitus.

It terrifies and saddens me that we're making junior high school students submit anti-abortion propaganda for a school project. The "mother" emphasis also really blows my mind. No wonder she aborted you - that's fucking obnoxious.

This is a great message, but it negates itself. First of all, if I'm using condoms, the implication is that I will not have a baby to feed. (That's what condoms are for, FYI, you adorable little undereducated tweens). And all I gotta do is put some Alpo in a bowl labeled "BABY," plop it down on the floor and we're good to go. Like pets, only you birth them!

There will be someone who will come along in your life. Someone incredibly attractive who you will think about from time and wish that you had bedded. And trust me, until you masturbate to someone you haven't seen in five years, you don't know the meaning of "too late."

how do you not know he's gay?!?!?

I am the queen of speculation. I spend vast amounts of spare time speculating about people and their deepest fears/desires/secrets. It's an amusing way to pass the time - I particularly enjoy speculating about people speculating about me. Coupled with this brilliant imagination of mine is an almost dead-accurate gaydar. I believe I hold this gift because gay men flock to me - I am, simply, a gay man in a woman's body - and because of my judge-reduce-reject philosophy on strangers. Yes, I judge you, I reduce you to the most base elements of your personality, and then, I reject you. Unless I happen to end up liking you, but that's pretty rare.

So anyway, it always falls upon me to wonder - how do some people not know someone is gay?

I will admit - even with my acute homoception, I slipped. A kid who worked at my office was peculiar for numerous reasons, but something about him really bugged me and I couldn't put my finger on it. He had really unfashionable glasses and talked endless about the stock market, so why would I question his sexuality? It didn't dawn on me until I saw him strutting down Summer Street, lanky stubbled gay-babe in tow. HOW DID I NOT KNOW? The signs were right in front of me. He often spoke about visiting a male friend from college down in St. Louis. He was completely disinterested in breasts. He stole an expensive bottle of scotch from his father to give to one of our strapping young lads at the company. I was so foolish.

Regardless, it blows my mind that most of America is unable to detect the gay. Let's dissect the obliviousness, shall we?

Okay, let's start with the obvious. Ricky Martin.

I would make some sort of gay-Livin' La Vida Loca pun, but it's been done to death.

Girl shaves her face with a Schick Intuition. COME ON. Next.


Clay Aiken

He's wearing a thumb ring, for Christ's sake.

Now, I don't watch American Idol. But in my opinion, any guy who wants to go on national television and sing "Somewhere Out There" from An American Tail is gay as the day is schlong. NEXT.


Sir Elton

Anyone who likes zany glasses is gay. I happen to be the authority on this.

Do you remember when Elton John married a woman? He wore a white tailcoat and a purple bow tie. I'll let you visualize that one.


Liberace

Americans are so fucking stupid.



Hot Mormon dudes

I'll listen to your missionary LDS crap for some PIV.

When you are this attractive, why would you 1). remain a virgin until marriage, and 2). get married so, so young? Dude could lay any chick he wants, ever. But no, he's looking for a beard! How convenient is it to choose from a bevy of beautiful, pristine Mormon madonnas who just want to find "the one" and pop out some well-adjusted, shiny, attractive children? Then you'll maintain a sense of filial piety, have a trophy on your arm, AND you can pretend you're doing a guy during the mandated missionary lights-off sex.

Boy band members

There are more of them. Believe me. I'm sure of it.

I slept with a hipster once. second worst lay of my life.

It was a very, very low point in my life. I was trying really hard to be part of that lifestyle.

Yes, I say "try" because that's all you can do. Nobody just "is" a hipster, they actually have to try to do it. They have to spend hours scouring Etsy for appropriately large non-prescription glasses, because it's totally cool to wear things you don't need. They starve themselves so they can squeeze their asses into American Apparel jeans and they save pennies so they can buy Parliaments. I know. I was a coke-addled poseur at one time, too.

I know it's hard to believe that someone who owns more than one item of clothing with tulle would identify with those people, but I wanted to. I always felt like my stupid black-streaked hair and multitude of studded belts and math rock playlists would bring me closer to that ultimate idea of cool, but it failed. It failed so hard that I became a yuppie with an anchor tattoo (so sue me).

Lately I've come to revile all the shit that screams "I have nothing better to do than drink PBR and waste my parents' money," and I was reminded of this the last time I looked at the Urban Outfitters website. I used to shop there, but now, I can't understand why people drop legitimate money on this crap.

You know what's the greatest thing about these? They're EIGHTY-EIGHT DOLLARS. If only I had remembered to save the leggings I got from my Walgreen's halloween costume three years ago.

By "I fought the law," I mean that I had to go to traffic court once, and my dad told them what a good kid I was so they continued my case without a finding for a year. (This really did happen to me. What can I say, it's easier to make fun of kids who think they're cool when you know for sure that you're not).

 I wish someone told me 15 years ago that my bedspread, my mom's jeans and the sewing skills of a fourth grader would be all I'd need to have a totally rad outfit in 2010.

I'll never understand why hipster companies are so intent on only selling their clothes to ridiculously skinny people. Fat money is good money too! Personally, I know about two women who have boobs that could actually be small enough to fit into one of these things. And they're both incredibly thin. And I hate them for it, but most of all I hate myself for hating them for it, and I hate reconciling my feminist views with my body issues, and I hate having to apologize for feeling that way. Anyway, fuck you and your stupid bralette.

 One of the words I hate more than anything is "flouncy." Flouncy implies that something is both decorative and cheerful, concepts which make me want to stab a piece of glass in my eye. Accordingly, I find these flouncy shorts extremely offensive. Not to mention ugly.

YOU CAN'T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS. Pick a shoe style, and stay there.

 This is marketed as a jacket. On what planet is this a jacket? In what universe?

Come. On.
What. The fuck. Is this.